


Anchor

by highhopes (downuptime)



Category: The Good Fight (TV), The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27420319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downuptime/pseuds/highhopes
Summary: AU, a series of one-shots where everyone works in the news industry.
Relationships: Diane Lockhart/Kurt McVeigh
Comments: 11
Kudos: 40





	Anchor

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired in part by this exchange that took place in 2x15 of the Good Wife between Diane and Kurt. 
> 
> _“Been a while.”_
> 
> _“Yes, quite a while. Where have you been?”_
> 
> _“Here, there. You?”_
> 
> _“Here.”_

“Ms Lockhart, are you ready?” 

Diane looks up from her copy of the Wall Street Journal. Setting it aside, she smiles politely and rises to her feet. “Yes.” 

“Let me hook you up to your mic then,” the young lady stutters. Her hands shake slightly as she attaches the mic to Diane’s blouse. “I’m a huge fan, Ms Lockhart. I love your work and you’re the reason why I’m going into journalism. I’ve been looking forward to this panel discussion all year.” 

Diane discreetly glances down at the student’s lanyard. “Thank you, Rachel, that’s wonderful to hear. And it’s good to be back.” 

Grace escorts her down the hallway to the wing just off stage right. “Professor Abernathy will introduce the speakers one by one, and you can just head onto the stage when you’re introduced. Your seat is the one closest to Professor Abernathy. 

Diane nods. Soon, she’s left alone waiting in the wing. She peers out onto the stage, where Charles Abernathy, the head of the Communications and Journalism program, is giving his opening remarks. He has not not changed at all in the past twenty odd years since she went to college with him, still shunning collared shirts even for formal events, and choosing instead to wear a t-shirt (always grey or white) under a blazer with his signature Chuck Taylors. She suppresses an eye roll, and shakes her head fondly. 

“Diane.” 

She freezes in place for two beats, then turns around. There he is, just standing in front of her, his two hands in his pockets. He’s grown his hair out slightly, but otherwise, he looks no different from the last time she saw him six months ago. 

There is a long, awkward silence as she tries to come to terms with the fact that he is in front of her. She clears her throat. “Kurt. What a surprise. What are you doing here?” 

“Brody pulled out at the last minute.” He pauses, then adds,“I was in town.” 

She’d been looking forward to being on the panel with Matan and sparring with him. Though of a different journalistic style from hers, he was competent. 

“You don’t like doing panels,” she finally replies. 

“I owe Charles a favour.” 

“Oh.” 

There is another long pause. His gaze doesn’t waver, and she can’t help but flush under his scrutiny. Finally, he breaks the silence. “You look good.” 

Warmth creeps onto her cheeks. Damn him and the way he makes her feel even two years later with just his gaze and barely any words. “Thank you. You too.” 

Right on cue, Charles’ enthusiastic voice filters through their bubble as he winds down his introductory spiel. “… so let us welcome two-time Peabody Award winner, host of CHM’s In Depth with Diane Lockhart, and my very dear friend, the one and only Diane Lockhart!” 

She shoots him a wry smile as she tucks her hair behind her ear. Oh, what a turn of events. “See you out there.” 

—

The panel goes off without a hitch and despite the initial surprise twist, Diane thoroughly enjoys it. Charles, as always, was an immaculate moderator, and despite the last minute replacement of Brody by Kurt, it didn’t affect the dynamic of the five-member panel at all. 

She has to give it to Charles - he knows how to assemble an effective and engaging panel with just the right range of views and opinions. 

As for Kurt - well, for a person who didn’t like participating in panels or public speaking, he sure was excellent at it. It was not only the fact that he was a globe-trotting foreign correspondent who had war stories to share; no, he had a way with words, vivid, but sharp and to the point. She can’t help but glance over at him, where he’s deep in discussion with two students who are hanging on his every word. 

By the time she’s done answering the questions of the students who mobbed her after the end of the panel session, it’s way past lunchtime. She checks her watch. Her daily rundown meeting’s at 3pm with Eli and the team, which leaves her just slightly over an hour to grab a quick lunch and make her way back to the newsroom. 

She looks up to see Charles enthusiastically herding Kurt over. “Diane!” Charles exclaims as he envelopes her in a bear hug. “Thank you for doing this, it was absolutely wonderful!” 

“It’s always a pleasure, Abe,” she replies fondly. She turns her head slightly to whisper into his ear, “Though you omitted essential information.” 

“Did I?” Charles pulls back with too-innocent a look. She narrows her eyes but he shrugs. “Anyway, I have a staff meeting at 2 and I’ve yet to prep for it. I’ll take you out to dinner one day. Cathy’s been asking after you.” 

He leans in and plants a kiss on her cheek and before she can protest, he’s gone, leaving her alone on the auditorium stage with Kurt. There are a few stragglers in the midst of making their way out, but the auditorium is largely silent and empty.

Kurt clears his throat. “Lunch?” he asks, always to the point. 

She glances at her watch again, avoiding his gaze. “It’s late.” 

“Rundown’s at 3.” 

“How would you - never mind.” Eli rules their team with an iron fist, and they almost never deviate from the 3pm meeting time unless there’s breaking news or some intervening event that renders it impossible for the rundown meeting to take place. 

Kurt, of course, would know all that. 

“A quick one,” he urges. “That Italian place you love, it’s just around the corner.” 

She looks at him hesitantly. Damn him and his green eyes. Why is she able to interview the Queen of England and Kim Jong Il with ease, and yet be rendered completely speechless by him? 

Her Blackberry rings, her ringtone cutting through the tension in the air. Relieved, she holds up one finger and turns away slightly. 

_ “Where are you? ”  _

“Hello to you too, Eli,” she replied dryly. “I’m at the NYU panel.”

_ “That was supposed to end at 12!”  _

“It overran.” 

_ “Well, get back here. I’m moving the rundown up to 2.30 - rumour is there is a major announcement coming out from the White House later this afternoon.” _

Relief washes over her. She has a valid excuse to turn Kurt’s invitation for lunch down now. At the same time though, there is a tinge of regret and longing which she determinedly tamps down. 

_ “Hello? Diane?” _

She gathers herself. “Get back here  please, you mean,” she says pointedly with no real heat in her voice. She does enjoy winding Eli up, especially when he’s omitted to give her information that he most certainly was privy to. 

She can practically hear his eye roll over the phone. _“_ _Yes, please, Diane, get back here.” _

She glances back at Kurt, who’s texting on his own Blackberry, before turning away. “Eli,” she whispers into the phone, “You must have known - “ 

She only realises he’s hung up when she hears the click and the disconnect tone. She narrows her eyes at her Blackberry before tucking it away.

“Sorry,” she apologises, turning back towards Kurt. “That was Eli.” 

He cracks a tentative smile. “I thought so.” 

“I’ve been summoned back to the newsroom,” she says. She hopes she doesn’t sound as relieved as she feels. Then somehow, before she can stop herself and against almost every fibre of her being, and because she must be  insane , she asks, “What about a quick dinner instead, before the show?” 

Kurt’s smile fades. Before he can say anything, she already knows what’s coming. “My flight’s at nine.”

“Oh.” She forces her smile to stay on her face. “Where to this time?” 

He looks away. “South Sudan.”

“Oh,” she says feebly. A familiar feeling of dread pools in her stomach. She hasn’t felt this way in a long time. “How long?” 

“Four weeks, maybe five.” 

She can feel herself begin to disengage further. “Well, take care of yourself. And Marissa.” She pauses, then adds, “I really have to go, Kurt. It was good seeing you.” 

“Diane, wait.” He stops her with a hand on her elbow. “I…” he falters. There is another pause, then he continues, “I emailed you.” 

“I know.” She goes to bed every night with 28 unread emails. 

“I - “ 

“Kurt,” she cuts him off gently. “This is who we are. I’m here, and you’re… not here. That’s just the way it is. Maybe this is better.” 

He opens his mouth as if to protest but stops himself. “So that’s it?” he asks. 

“Is there any other way?” 

“Will you ever forgive me?” 

She hesitates, then allows herself to lean in and presses a lingering kiss to his cheek. “Take care,” she whispers. “Be safe.” 

And then she walks away. 

— 

“Diane.  Diane!” 

She looks up from her Blackberry - not her inbox, and most definitely not the 28 unread emails there - to see Eli’s annoyed face across the small conference table. “What’s gotten into you today?” he bites out. 

Her senior staff are looking at her as though she has grown an additional head. She must be even more out of sorts than she thought. She waves a hand at Eli. “Insert it into the C-block.” 

“Do you even know what we are talking about?” 

“Yes,” she replies testily, “You’re talking about POTUS’s conflicts of interest.”

Eli’s impending outburst is quelled immediately. No doubt, he had been ready to chew her out for not paying attention. She rolls her eyes. 

“You have an uncanny ability to multitask,” he mutters back churlishly. 

“How else can I conduct an interview eloquently while simultaneously listening to your rants over my earpiece?” she replies sweetly. Eli throws his arms in the air. She ignores it as she continues, “Let’s contrast his actions against past presidents and what they did with their assets when they took office. Keep it factual.” 

“Presidents from both parties,” Eli adds, nodding and eyes glazing over slightly as he envisions the segment. “I want concrete examples. We all know impeachment is in the works, people. Get to work. Even if the White House announcement later trumps - “ He soldiers on despite the collective groan in the conference room, “ - yes, pun intended, even if it trumps whatever we have locked in for today, it will go into tomorrow’s program. Now, shoo.” 

As the senior staff gather their things and trail out of the conference room, Diane raises an eyebrow at Eli and eyes his seat. He frowns and sinks back into his seat, tapping his pen against his notepad. When the senior staff are finally all gone, she finally asks, “Did you know?” 

“Did I know what?” His eyebrows furrow. 

“That Kurt would be at the NYU panel.” 

“Kurt was at the NYU panel?” 

That was a no, then. Eli was usually lightning quick on the uptake and this piece of news flummoxed him. She sighs. She underestimates just how little Marissa sees fit to update her father despite her frequent travels all over the world. “Marissa didn’t tell you?” 

“Of course she didn’t.” Eli’s fingers are already flying over his phone. He has a particular face when he communicates with Marissa - there is a certain softness that is rarely shown and reserved only for certain people in his life. “She rarely updates the person who contributed 50% of her DNA and practically raised her.” 

He squints at his phone. “She’s at her mom’s. Layover’s too short this time, she’ll swing by next time she’s back.” 

“They’re off to South Sudan.” 

Eli looks up at the tone of her voice. There must be something in her face, because he sets his Blackberry down and walks over. He drops a hand on her shoulder. “They’ll be fine.” 

She looks up at him. “I’m not the one whose daughter is going there.” 

“You know CNN is not going to let them go to South Sudan without security,” he retorts, dropping into the seat next to her. “Besides, since when have I been able to prevent Marissa from doing whatever the hell what she wants?” 

Eli spins slowly in his seat, intentionally not making eye contact. “You know, for someone who can’t forgive her ex, you’re awfully concerned for his safety.” 

She makes a face at that.

Suddenly, Eli’s Blackberry vibrates violently on the table, startling both of them. Her own Blackberry begins to buzz, and through the glass walls of the conference room, they see the staff perk up in their seats, each picking up their own devices and starting to make calls. 

“Here we go,” Eli mutters gleefully, springing to his feet. 

Diane looks out at her staff, trying to muster up the enthusiasm to cover whatever new scandal or disaster is coming out of the White House. 

Yet, all she can think of is the look on his face, that stricken look, the last she saw of him, before she walked away.

**Author's Note:**

> Depending on the muse, this may or may not become a series. We’ll see.


End file.
